


Emergency Call

by Tarlan



Series: Emergency Colors [1]
Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Character Study, Community: fanfic100, Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-09
Updated: 2009-02-09
Packaged: 2017-10-20 21:09:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/217127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/pseuds/Tarlan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodney arrives at the Ancient Outpost in Antarctica for the first time, piloted by a messy haired USAF Major.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Emergency Call

**Author's Note:**

> Written for **Fanfic100** prompt 020. Colourless

Rodney leaped forward and grabbed the edge of the large case as it began to slide off the top of the pile. He turned and snarled at the clumsy airman.

"If you're deliberately trying to commit suicide by Naquadah bomb then well done. Apart from the fact that you'd take the rest of us with you, along with part of Antarctica... and the resulting tsunami from the force of the explosion, along with all the snow and ice turned to water vapor, would flood half the planet."

Suitably berated, the airman stepped back and left Rodney to strap the case containing a Mark 3 Naquadah generator, built to his own specification, onto the bench of the transport helicopter. He cursed when he couldn't quite manage to fasten the quick release belt while wearing heavy mittens and, for once, he didn't complain when another of the airmen reached around him to finish the job. He caught a glimpse of a smirk and a flash of messy dark hair before the man turned away, heading into the cockpit. Moments later, an almost insolent drawl came through the headset.

"Thank you for choosing McMurdo Transports. Your pilot today is Major John Sheppard. Ground control reports blue skies and ice for as far as the eye can see. Please fasten your safety belts and return all trays to the upright position ready for take-off."

Confused, Rodney could only utter, "Huh?" before he heard the distinctive sound of the rotor blades beginning to turn and realized, suddenly, that he was the only one still standing. Everyone else had grabbed a seat and was quickly buckling in. The only seat left was squashed between Kavanagh and a stocky man with an even more nervous disposition than Rodney. Kavanagh sneered when Rodney couldn't manage the belt buckle while still wearing his heavy duty mittens but Rodney's hands were worth a small fortune. He couldn't afford to lose even the tip of his little finger due to frost bite.

"Oh! Let me," the stocky guy said in a foreign accent as he reached over and snapped the belt shut. He patted Rodney's well-padded thigh, blue eyes crinkling into a smile as he adjusted the belt to fit snuggly over Rodney's lap. Rodney slapped away his hand, but it merely settled back on his thigh in a series of pats.

"What are you? My mother?" He shouted back over the increasingly loud noise of the engine.

Instead of looking indignant, the man's smile broadened--until the helicopter began to lift off. Suddenly, the friendly pat to his thigh became the clench of death, managing to dig in through several layers of arctic gear into his thigh muscle. With the mittens hampering any attempt to pry loose the fingers, Rodney decided that it was better to risk frostbite than live with the excruciating pain all the way to the outpost. He tore off the mittens and used both hands to try to break the death grip on his thigh, only to suck in a breath as the fingers wrapped around his hand instead, feeling the fragile bones grind together. With tears in his eyes, he punched the man on the shoulder to make him open his screwed-closed eyes.

"You're. Hurting. Me," Rodney stated through gritted teeth, seeing only confusion in response until he pointed down towards their clasped hands. With a shocked expression, the man released his grip. Rodney couldn't hear the words but the man's mouth formed, "Terribly, terribly sorry." Rodney could only snarl back in response as he cradled his crushed hand.

Fortunately, the rest of the trip passed without incident, and then all of Rodney's attention was taken up as a dot in the distance quickly grew into a dome shape structure erected above the Ancient Outpost. No one could hear a word over the helicopter's noise but even Kavanagh looked a little excited. As the helicopter came in to land, settling easily on the packed ice close to the main dome, Rodney heard the pilot make more cheesy remarks like a commercial pilot from one of a dozen airlines.

"Please remain seated until the rotors have come to a complete stop. Once again, thank you for flying McMurdo Transports. We hope you enjoyed your flight and look forward to flying with you again."

Rodney blinked rapidly and then decided he would be better off not knowing what drugs the pilot was taking. The pilot glanced back in Rodney's direction and Rodney would swear he saw the man smirk at him, even if most of his face was hidden behind a helmet and sunglasses.

Rodney took charge of removing the Naquadah generator. He hadn't accompanied it all the way from Siberia only to see it damaged by some Neanderthal posing as a military grunt. If he was right--huh! he thought smugly - then they would need the generator to maintain the Outpost's systems while he studied the Ancients' power source that O'Neill had retrieved from Proclarush.

Rodney's thoughts turned to the discovery only days earlier by Colonel O'Neill, and how O'Neill had used the weapons in the Outpost to save the planet from Anubis - again. He thought of the F302s that had scrambled from the Russian base, some never to return. When he'd received the emergency call for assistance from the SGC only an hour after the actual battle above the planet, Rodney had no idea they would bundle him onto a private jet in little more than his orange fleece and send him halfway round the world. At least the Russians had thrown in a hastily packed suitcase containing a few of his clothes with promises to send the rest along on the next transport; they'd also handed him the newly constructed Naquadah generator in a separate case. Thankfully, the US Air Force had supplied the rest of his cold-weather gear as dying from hypothermia or losing essential limbs due to frostbite was not on his list of things to do today.

Rodney hadn't expected to hear so much noise upon entering the domed structure but US Marine engineers were constructing an elevator, which looked only hours from completion. In the interim, a makeshift, one person lift had been created and he balked at the idea of using it to gain access to the outpost, buried beneath the ice. In the end, though, curiosity won out and he gritted his teeth as he was strapped into the harness and lowered down the circular hole that had been cut by the transport rings from the Goa'uld cargo ship. About the only bright spot was hearing Kavanagh's rants and whines fade into the distance. As usual, Kavanagh had insisted on being the first to go down but Sam had asked for Rodney specifically.

On reaching the bottom, an airman helped him out of the harness. Rodney expected to see Sam bouncing on the balls of her feet, face smug, and eager to show him around the latest discovery right here on Earth. Instead, her eyes looked tired and red-rimmed, and her mouth was set in a tight line.

"Rodney."

"Ha!" He pointed at her. "I knew you couldn't stay away from me," he crowed, beaming broadly only to gain raised eyebrows and a look of exasperation that he totally refused to accept as anything other than fondness. At the very least, his words had taken the edge of defeatism from her eyes, making them spark a little. She refused to be baited though and turned away, expecting him to follow but his eyes were held by the beautiful architecture, by the shapes and colors, and the filigree workmanship that reminded him of a dozen ancient cultures on Earth. When he realized she was leaving him behind, he hastened to catch up; he froze when he came face to face with O'Neill, encased in a force field. Sam had stopped a few feet further on and Rodney saw the sad look return as she gazed towards the frozen figure.

Rodney cocked a thumb towards the stasis chamber. "Is he...?"

"In stasis. We knew Anubis was heading to Earth with a massive fleet and we needed to find a way to save the planet. Jack... Colonel O'Neill downloaded an Ancient Repository into his head."

Rodney startled, recalling that this had happened to O'Neill before, and that it was a bad thing because the human brain wasn't wired to take that amount of data in a single transfer. The force field seemed to change color depending on which angle the light refracted through it, becoming almost colorless if he leaned his head just...so. He had a theory that the download was triggered and controlled by a mental command that allowed the receiver to choose how much data he or she needed at any one time. He wondered if even the Ancients had ever tried to take in all that knowledge in one go but if it had been as dangerous to them as it was to humans then surely there would have been a safety switch to prevent that happening.

Rodney shivered. The sight of O'Neill standing like a silent sentinel, eyes wide open, gave him the creeps; he jumped when he caught movement in a shadow opposite.

"Daniel?" Sam called.

A handsome man wearing glasses stepped forward, looking a little sheepish at being seen. Although Rodney had never met him in person, on account of him being dead the last time Rodney was at the SGC and in discussion with the Russians for their DHD on the first occasion, Rodney recognized him immediately.

"Dr. Jackson, I presume."

Jackson's lips quirked into a smile that made Rodney frown in confusion, especially when he caught Sam rolling her eyes. Jackson moved forward, holding out a hand that Rodney stared at in even greater confusion. Jackson's smile grew more crooked as he pulled back his hand.

"You must be Dr. McKay. I've heard so much about you."

"Hmm? Really?" Rodney beamed back at Sam, knowing she must have been talking about him to her colleagues. He caught Sam making an aborted _cutting_ gesture, and saw her smile wanly as Daniel's hand came down on Rodney's fleece-clad shoulder.

Jackson smiled warmly. "I hear you're the planet's foremost expert in Ancient technology," he murmured and gave Rodney a gentle push around the corner and into the Chair Room.

Rodney froze, awe-struck by the beauty and practicality combined into one glorious piece of technology. He gazed back at Sam and then at Jackson. If he did happen to notice the mirror of sadness reflected in both their eyes, it was quickly forgotten as he took his first steps up onto the platform leading to the Control Chair.

END


End file.
